August on the Dee Marshes and the Pennine Moors, including encounters with a bolshie pheasant, a practising peregrine, and a flirty wheatear.
With half an hour to kill in Hebden Bridge, I head over to the river to see if there are any dippers around.
My dad's dog and I both pursue swallows in our own way.
One thing I hadn't really appreciated, when walking dogs in the countryside, is just how much more you can end up seeing.
In which the local jackdaws and rooks encounter an unusual foe.
Photographing this morning's partial solar eclipse.
Our moorlands are—or should be—important wetland habitats.
How red grouse change their habits in cold weather.
When your instincts and your compass disagree, trust your instincts. I mean your compass.
Our kitchen might not be of World Heritage Site calibre just yet, but each autumn there comes a reminder that our house sits on the same spinning rock as Stonehenge and Newgrange.